


what are we made of but hunger and rage?

by Princex_N



Series: the gentleness that comes not from the absence of violence, but despite the abundance of it [6]
Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Angst, Autism, Autistic Erin, Autistic Hawkeye, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Self-Harm, meltdowns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:15:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25001509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princex_N/pseuds/Princex_N
Summary: Over and over again, Hawkeye reached the end of his rope, and then somehow managed to string together something functional enough to just keep going anyway.There was always going to be a limit.
Relationships: B. J. Hunnicutt/Peg Hunnicutt/Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce
Series: the gentleness that comes not from the absence of violence, but despite the abundance of it [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1601140
Comments: 8
Kudos: 83





	what are we made of but hunger and rage?

**Author's Note:**

> title from anne carson's 'plainwater'

Hawkeye figures that he always knew that it was coming, he just wasn't quite expecting _when_. 

He'd always known that there was going to be a breaking point, which was funny considering how often he managed to stumble across them. Over and over again, Hawkeye reached the end of his rope, and then somehow managed to string together something functional enough to just keep going anyway. 

There was always going to be a limit. 

Hawkeye goes home; white-knuckles his way through the flights ( _it spun out; there were no survivors)_ and makes it home to meet his dad at the airport. They both cry, and Hawkeye half-notices the aversion of eyes around them and almost laughs at the thought of still being _embarrassed_ by public breakdowns anymore. At least this time there was no vehicular damage involved. 

Hawkeye goes home; sits in the car with his dad and listens to him tell mundane stories instead of having to read about them, and marvels at the oddity of a smooth drive, unhaunted by the scarred roads and deafening sounds of artillery shelling. 

Hawkeye goes home, but none of it quite sinks in. Even as he sits on the couch in the living room he grew up in, some part of him is still expecting to see BJ round the corner or Potter swing by to meet Hawkeye's dad. Some part of him is still almost expecting the rug to get yanked out from under him, just like it had to BJ - " _Sorry for the confusion, but you're not quite done yet. Better get back over there ASAP before we come after you for dodging your orders"_. None of it feels real, but Hawkeye has gotten good at covering his own uncertain edges, so he makes it through the evening playing at being perfectly fine. 

Then he goes to bed. Gets into a real bed in a real room with walls that don't collapse and a spring mattress with soft blankets, and promptly loses his shit. 

It hits all at once. This is not the cot that Hawkeye spent the last two and a half years struggling to sleep in. It's not the tent that had become a refuge. There are no quiet conversations or the breathing of friends and distant patrols. It's soft, and it's quiet, and it's untouched by the violence and chaos that Hawkeye had despised so thoroughly, and somehow he can't stand to bear it. 

Two and a half years' worth of frayed nerves and anxiety and staving off the inevitable meltdowns, and of course those dams were going to break once and for all the moment it was finally safe for them to. 

He screams with the force of it - head bowed and shoulders curved with the effort, dry heaving his way through the noise. He's beyond the thought of his father's hearing, too lost in the fully realized knowledge that he is _alone_ and that the ragged family they'd pieced together out of necessity and desperation is _gone_ and will never be whole again. 

He drives his fists into his legs, his arms, his head, whatever part of him that he can reach because too many of them died and so many of them cracked and nearly every single one of them had left, and Hawkeye should be happy for those of them that finally made it home, but he _can't be_ , because his home had been with them too and now he's left in the lurch. The blows hurt, but none of it is enough to balance the agony of this change. 

It drags on and on, and Hawkeye is vaguely aware of the damage he's doing to himself, of the quiet presence of his father in the doorway, but he's beyond his own control now. There's nothing left to cling to, not even the threats of being sectioned or court-martialed, and the only thing Hawkeye is able to do is weather the storm until his body gives out from under him. There is no BJ to help drag him back together, no call of incoming wounded to corner him into something functional, there's nothing left to prop him up here. 

It's bad, he knows it is, still keening tears into the carpet even as his body fails to keep going, finally still enough to be subjected to the quiet care of his father's gentle first-aid, but nowhere near calm. It was always going to happen, he knows.

The knowing never makes it any easier. 

* * *

They're expecting it from the start, BJ's just surprised it took so long. 

It's been a long day, errands and a desire to just get out of the house for once sending all four of them out and about since early that morning. Erin's been good about handling the day's events, has been getting better and better at it as she gets older, but BJ knows that she has limits. When the sound of a tray being dropped in the restaurant they're eating dinner at is finally what breaks through, BJ can't find himself shocked at all. 

"Finally throwing the towel in?" he asks her, tone light in case other tables happen to be listening in. Of course this had to happen when Peg just happened to get up from the table. "What do you think, Hawk? Time to call it a day?" 

"Oh, certainly," Hawkeye replies, smiling thinly even as he tugs at his ear uncomfortably. "Do you want me to take her outside while you collect your wife and the bill?" 

BJ had his mouth open to ask Hawkeye the same thing, but he closes it quickly. He's been good with Erin lately, but still rarely prefers to be left alone with her. To ask outright, volunteer unprompted? BJ's not going to take it away from him. 

"Go right ahead," he says, still half-anticipating Hawkeye to realize what's going on and back out of it, but he doesn't even hesitate. 

"Right away!" he chirps over-enthusiastically, hands twitching like he wants to perform one of his old half-assed salutes. "We'll be out near the car," he adds to BJ, picking Erin's desolately flopped over body with firm hands, pressing one hand over her ear to shield her from the ambient noise of the restaurant (and the heavy stares of some of the more judgmental patrons, like none of them have ever heard a child cry before). 

BJ watches them leave for a moment, still a little surprised, but then pulls himself back together. He gathers up everyone's things and runs into Peg on his way to pay the check. 

"Where's Erin?" she asks immediately. 

"Got kicked up by a falling tray," BJ explains. "Hawkeye took her out to the car." 

Her eyebrows shoot up at that. "Should I go out there?" 

"No, I think he's got it. Might need to trade off once we get out there, but lets give him a little bit longer." 

So they pay the bill together, head out without rushing, and find Hawkeye and Erin perched on the curb in the shade cast by the vehicle in the setting sun. Erin is curled small in Hawkeye's lap, wails cut down to tapering moans with her head tucked against his chest and her fingers fluttering in front of her eyes while he rocks them both, the motion smooth and uninhibited in a way it almost never was in Korea. 

BJ half expects him to stop as they approach, get that vaguely cornered look he still sometimes gets even around BJ who has never once been an issue, but he doesn't. 

"The car was too hot," Hawkeye tells them over Erin's head, "and the sound echoes in there." 

He says this knowingly, something he knows for himself, not something he extrapolated from Erin. BJ has spent enough time acting as a helping hand to have his own sort of experience, but he'll still never quite get it the same way Hawkeye can. 

So, it's a good thing they have Hawkeye around, to help in all the ways they can't. 

(It's a good thing they're here with Hawkeye, to help him in all the ways he can't help himself.) 

Peg and BJ share a look, and then head over to sit next to Hawk on the curb, picking up their interrupted conversation with a casual ease. They don't have a reason to rush home yet, and if sitting outside is going to help, then there's no need to cut the time short. 

Erin wiggles in Hawkeye's arms, yelping in dissatisfaction when he takes it as a cue to try letting her go. There's a tense anxiety around his eyes when he tightens his arms instead, BJ can practically see him shaking from the effort, and part of him wants to interrupt now, offer to take Erin so that she can get the pressure she wants without sending Hawkeye tumbling down the road of flashbacks, but she settles just as he's opening his mouth. 

The sunset is gorgeous, but it can't even begin match the sight of Hawkeye's exhilarated grin at the progress. 

* * *

For once, Peggy isn't actually the first one to notice that something is wrong. 

Instead, she's in the middle of trying to get lunch together when she hears the little noise Erin makes when she needs something. Peg knows that Hawkeye is around somewhere, but wouldn't be surprised if he was out in the yard or just generally unable to help with Erin today (he's gotten far - a lot farther than BJ and Peg expected - but today's been a weird day for him), so she drops what she's doing to go hunt down her daughter instead. 

What Peggy isn't expecting to find is Erin crouched at Hawkeye's feet, bent over and twisted at the waist to look up in his face where he has it bracketed between his arms, his elbows braced on his knees. She has her favorite blanket in her hand, and is trying to push it up at him, making her insistent noise again when she's ignored. 

"Erin," Peggy says, a little sharp, but trying to keep level. The last thing she wants is for Erin to start crying, because she can see the way Hawkeye is holding himself so stiff he's shaking, and hear the sharp pant of his breath as it shudders through his back. 

Erin isn't the one who responds, though, it's _Hawkeye_ who somehow manages to stiffen up further, going so still he nearly stops breathing. And just as Peg is realizing that he's interpreted her tone as concern for _Erin's_ well-being, he rockets unsteadily to his feet. 

She sees him freeze, unsure of where to go, and as Peggy is saying, "Oh, Hawkeye, I wasn't-," Erin is pressing her blanket against Hawkeye's trembling fist with a quiet croon, and Peggy doesn't get a chance to finish her sentence before Hawkeye has taken the blanket and run off like a shot, heading straight into the bathroom and closing the door firmly behind him. 

Peg swears low under her breath and goes to scoop up Erin. She definitely needs to check on Hawkeye, but BJ isn't home and that means she's got to take things one at a time. 

"Hawk," Erin informs her, one of her newest words and her current favorite to say (she says it to herself constantly, chanting away happily as she plays, and Peggy still occasionally catches Hawkeye's smile when he hears it). 

"Yes," Peggy agrees. "Thank you for trying to help him." Erin is generally not fond of her playpen, but Peggy puts her in there anyway because she needs to make sure nothing happens while she's off making sure Hawkeye is alright. Sure enough, Erin's face scrunches with displeasure, but she thankfully refrains from crying. 

As consolation, Peggy places a handful of blocks in with her. "I won't be too long," she promises, and then sets off after Hawkeye. 

The bathroom door hasn't been locked, but Peggy knocks quietly before making any attempt at stepping in. "Hawkeye?" she calls, straining to hear if there's any response over the odd rhythmic noise echoing through the door. "Do you mind if I come in?" 

If Hawkeye says anything in return, Peggy can't hear it, and the silence scares her more than she would have thought it could have. She gives him a moment more, just to ensure it's not just a delayed response instead of a lack of one, and then steps inside as unobtrusively as she can. 

The thumping noise she'd heard turns out to be the sound of Hawkeye's head against the shower wall, and Peggy bites her tongue to keep her instinctive response restrained. He's curled in the tub, face twisted in a mask of Pain that Peggy is certain has nothing to do with the damage he's currently doing to himself, with Erin's blanket still twisted in his hands. 

Peggy knows that grabbing him to try and get him to stop won't do either of them any favors. Through her own experience with Erin and Hawkeye's own advice, she knows it's likely to make things worse, and a two-year-old's kicking feet are far different than a 30-year-old man's. Hawkeye was the one to suggest finding a different tactic to replace the head banging, and Peggy had always known that he'd been speaking from personal experience, but she hadn't really gotten it until just now. Despite all their similarities, this has always been something associated with only Erin, but Peggy supposes she's lucky to have that experience at least. 

"Hawkeye, your head," she says, and it comes out a little bit uncertain, weak. 

He stops, body stiff and just as uncertain as her, and then he reaches up, rapping the heels of his palms against the sides of his head with sharp force, making a noise like a strangled scream half-smothered in his throat. Peg feels frozen, half torn between shouting and reaching for him, and she realizes she might be scared, not _of_ him, but _for_ him. 

Erin's meltdowns always make her seem utterly despondent, this is the first time Peggy truly understands that this is _painful_. The agony so stark and obvious that she doesn't know how to deal with it. 

(How can she help when it feels like every idea she has would just do more harm than good?) 

She stops, makes herself take a deep breath and forces herself to calm down and think. There's not a lot to work with in the bathroom, but Peg is finally able to recognize the blanket Erin had given to him. It had started its career as a cushion for Erin's head, something to slide under her to keep her from hurting herself without having to grab her, and has slowly become something Erin goes to find on her own when she starts feeling overwhelmed. The fact that she had gone to give it to Hawkeye without prompting makes _Peggy_ feel overwhelmed, but she pushes it aside for not as she goes to sit on the tile next to the tub. 

"Hawkeye," she says, keeping her voice quiet but firm this time. "You have Erin's blanket. It's the one I got for her when you gave me suggestions for what to do when she hits her head. Do you think you can stop hitting yours and use the blanket instead?" 

For a moment, Peg is worried that it won't work, already starting to spiral down into other options that won't be nearly as quick, and the anxiety surges terribly. But Hawkeye stops hitting his head and leans over to press his face into the fabric with a ragged noise. He doesn't really seem any calmer, but it's enough to get Peggy to breathe out in relief. 

She's not entirely sure what to do, how to help. He hardly seems up for answering questions, and Peggy doesn't want to touch him without permission. 

In the end, all she can do is sit and ride it out with him. She keeps her eyes closed or fixed on the sink to keep herself from staring, but keeps an ear out just in case, and can do nothing else but wait, and show him that she's there if he needs her and make dozens of mental notes to talk about this properly so that they're prepared if there's a next time. 

After a while, she hears shuffling inside the tub and is only just getting her eyes open when his head drops against her shoulder. She presses her cheek against the top of his head and waits to see what he needs. 

"Erin gave me her blanket," he says after a moment of just sitting against each other. She glances over to see his fingers kneading against the fabric like cats' paws, feeling out the soft textures and fibers. 

"She did; I'll have to give her extra dessert tonight for being helpful." 

"Not to mention kind," Hawkeye adds, then presses his head against her a bit firmer. "Thank you." 

She sighs. "It wasn't anything. Did I even help at all?" 

"Yes," Hawkeye says, and Peg can hardly see it, but he says it so certainly that there's no room for argument, and she doesn't feel like pushing it right now anyway. 

"Can I touch your hair?" she asks instead. 

He nods almost immediately, and leans against her further, even though it can hardly be comfortable with the edge of the tub in his side. Neither of them get up. 

Peggy reaches up and cards her fingers through his hair, soothing them both with the rhythmic motions. Her back is starting to hurt from sitting on the floor, and his probably is too. Erin is still in the playpen on her own, and lunch is still far from being done. 

But Erin isn't crying, and lunch can wait a little longer, and Hawkeye is drowsy calm under her hands, their bodies warm where they're tangled together, and they'll both have to get up eventually, but for right now, Peggy is perfectly content staying right where she is. 

**Author's Note:**

> hh, sorry this took so long to get an update; i sprung headlong back into my Marble Hornets hyperfixation and have barely been able to look at anything else in months, but hey; if any of you know and love marble hornets i've been writing those fics at an alarming rate so maybe check those out while i scramble across my like 7 notebooks to try and put together the other drafts i had for This series lmao


End file.
